


We, who fell in love with the sea

by popyourballoon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Stiles is BAMF, Stiles is Emissary, Warnings May Change, exploration of forces around us, ignoring all the unpleasant things, in Teen Wolf obviously, nature is powerful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popyourballoon/pseuds/popyourballoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles believes in powerful forces and supernatural mysticism long before Scott is bitten.</p><p>"As it turns out, all it took was <em>belief</em>. Real, honest belief, founded on Derek Hale appearing in the middle of the woods and barking something about private property. Stiles wasn’t listening, because there <em>it</em> was. The connection, the touch, and the proof he was looking for. Here and now he didn’t see a person, didn’t see human characteristics, facial expressions and didn’t hear the words. All he saw was magnificent power, a wolf, a <em>were</em>wolf. A bit dark, a bit damaged, but very, very real and very beautiful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We, who fell in love with the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and write this for myself, through myself. If it doesn't make sense - good. I never intended it to.

There were very few things Stiles kept from Scott. Some were unspoken, but understood and some just never left his consciousness, not with a word, not with a gesture or a sigh. Quiet secret behind plain, brown eyes, a hidden spark.

One such secret was the unshattering belief of supernatural existence, long before the dead, then crazy, then closed-off Hales came into their lives, suddenly shifting the axis, changing perception and moods of those around him.

It wasn’t the typical belief you would expect from a nerd like Stiles. He didn’t believe in vigilantes, heroes and superpowers, although, very obviously, he enjoyed the thought of them. Why not become someone who can punch holes in walls just by brushing past them? Why not enjoy the thrill of being different, hidden, powerful, loved and hated, but never known, never really understood, but still admired? It was a tempting fate.

Life was more… Raw.

Raw in a way waves caressed his ankles when he stood and watched sun or moon or clouds above the vast emptiness and power of water beneath, around, in front of him. Raw in the way lightning struck when he was swimming and nothing happened. Like something or someone, strong and unseen, protected him from unpleasant endings.

Or when he walked through the forest, barefoot and absentminded, lost in sounds around him and own thoughts. Turning to look around him and seeing a magnificent stag bowing its head in greeting, before disappearing into the thickness of leaves and branches.

Too many instances, too many lonely moments when he didn’t feel alone at all. Too many full moon nights, when he felt like shedding the skin he was in and just… Becoming a part of bigger consciousness, a flow and be a part of beautiful streams, connecting together into waves of cool water.

_Think of me as an element, matter. Think of me as a part of animate power all around us._

Stiles either woke up or went to sleep with this thought. He had desperately tried to find a way through modern scepticism, imprinted deep within him, to break free and find a way to _see_. To understand, to communicate with the pleasant, soothing touch of nature. Maybe even return the touch. Much to own disappointment, Stiles never quite managed to reach through the layers and grasp it.

As it turns out, all it took was _belief_. Real, honest belief, founded on Derek Hale appearing in the middle of the woods and barking something about private property. Stiles wasn’t listening, because there _it_ was. The connection, the touch, and the proof he was looking for. Here and now he didn’t see a person, didn’t see human characteristics, facial expressions and didn’t hear the words. All he saw was magnificent power, a wolf, a _were_ wolf. A bit dark, a bit damaged, but very, very real and very beautiful.

When he looked at Scott right then, well, it all made sense. _Click!_

 

How silly. How silly how life sometimes works.

***

Everyone around him sometimes wondered how he could accept these events and changes as logical. Concluding Scott was a werewolf – quite the leap to make in the staleness of modern humanity.

Probably for those with superhuman senses it was wondrous or confusing to taste his fear, anxiety and conflicting instincts, but not seeing anything more on his features than bravery and terrible, terrible, insatiable curiosity.

Stiles sometimes forgot to think, to analyse what was happening around him. Forgot to include himself into calculations, forgot that he could _see_ Derek for who he was, he could sense Matt and could guess Lydia’s potential. When no one believed him, first instinct, first thought was to stupidly insist on the truth he saw, forgetting to explain _how_ he could see it. After all, Stiles didn’t presume to be anything special or out of the ordinary. All those small instances when the nature opened up to him or he was lonely enough to see and accept it went unremembered.

And really, between chaos and research, with no time to think much, to form conclusions, to not act on instincts he had tried really hard to suppress a long time ago, when he believed nature was trying to reach out to him. It was easy to forget the pull on his heart when real, touchable werewolves were running around in circles. Wasn’t this the sign? Wasn’t this nature reaching out? Wanting his humanity and research skills, so mysterious beings could run around acting on information they themselves were too busy to find?

It made sense. The effects he had on wolfsbane disappeared in the background, buried under stress and problem solving.

Most of the time his life included incredible amounts of running and running. To and away from. Sometimes escaping. Sometimes succeeding. Sometimes not.

Somehow it was easier to accept himself as a convenient pawn, than to believe.

***

After all was said and done, Stiles found himself standing on the beach. Not daring to go near the water, because he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure of his welcome after Nogitsune. Wasn’t sure if touching the sea would not make it turn black, like tar, matching the way his insides felt.

Tiredness seeping into his bones and nothing else, nothing else than probability of shattering, falling apart and disappearing seemed like a good idea.

Of course, there was a silver lining in all of this. Now Stiles felt fully aware of connections around him, the invisible lines connecting things, people, everything of this world. As if experiencing dark and foul, but almost limitless, power coursing through his veins left no place for doubt anymore. Stiles was connected. Stiles was jacked into the matrix, learned its secrets and there was no coming back anymore. A spark seemed like such a wasteful way to describe the potential he sensed in himself now. Fire, inferno, boom! Not a measly spark.

With this came fear. Deep, aching fear, he had never felt, even when hit, even when injured, even when possessed by someone else. Fear of failure, fear of not being able to handle the potential for greatness dormant inside of him. So many ways to screw up, so many ways to break bad, to misuse the purpose he had been born with.

But…

He stepped into the waves anyway, because of the signs in the air and loving wind caressing his tired flesh - invitations hard to ignore. It made sense now, why Nogitsune had avoided water. Strong, ethereal hands drew him in and resurrected those broken parts deep inside, soothed his soul and welcomed flood of knowledge. He wasn’t a mystical creature, he wasn’t an unrealized supernatural force.

As it turns out, Stiles is an emissary. Not of werewolves. Not of kanimas, banshees or whatever else. Emissary of natural order. Emissary of nature, emissary of seas and forests and animals and all the connections, fragile strings of world in perfect balance.

It is a lot to take in. So he goes with it, disappears into the flow as he had longed to since forever ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC


End file.
